


a only way to love you

by jokerownsmysoul



Category: Joker (2019)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, comfort/mild angst, mention of Stendhal syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:21:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27671962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jokerownsmysoul/pseuds/jokerownsmysoul
Summary: Arthur deserves to be loved entirely, but there are parts of his body that have deeper wounds and sometimes need a special love treatment.
Relationships: Arthur Fleck/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	a only way to love you

Arthur was a piece of art to you.

There was nothing about him your mind couldn’t resist. For those who didn’t know him and could only look at him from afar his body looked unhealthy, thin, weak and fragile, yet the only thing you could see when you looked at him was a perfection which only imperfect things can have; the only perfection that really matters. A forgotten, neglected, fragile and consumed perfection, beaten by a life that with Arthur had been hard, much more than he could bear.

It was easy for you to catch yourself looking at him, mesmerized by all the tragic beauty his body was wearing like an invisible blanket built from all the pain he had faced in his life.

Everything that life had inflicted upon him had been absorbed not only by his soul, whose pieces Arthur had always had to carry, but also by his body. Yet you wouldn’t have wanted him any other way than in his extraordinary and rare way which dressed him as a garment made of past and experiences.

You got lost in his tired eyes which for an inexplicable reason they always had inside of them a glow that never went away despite their tiredness and that would sparkle even in the darkness, like a lighthouse in the night illuminating the coast of the sea. Every time you looked at him, his eyes reminded you of the stars that even after their death keep still shining. And despite all the pain he had to face, whose unforgettable consequences would follow him throughout his life, he had never ceased to have in his eyes the true life sparkling in his emerald green pupils, as if it were the reflection of the sunlight at the bottom of a lake. Perhaps in his eyes resided all the life his body didn’t hold and this was the reason why they were so bright they looked like living crystals.

You got lost in his slender torso where the rib cage glowed through his skin, where you liked to pass your fingers on and kiss each rib one by one, which reminded you of those roots of trees that pierce the ground and begin to grow on the surface; you yourself got lost in his arms, defined by muscles whose curves you clung to every time you made love and kept you anchored in the sea of pleasure in which you would have liked to get lost, if it weren’t for Arthur who waited for you on the shore every single time.

And most of all, you loved his hands. Hands have always fascinated you, but you swore you were obsessed with Arthur’s. You thought about that every time your eyes were immersed in looking at them and your mind could never wake up from the hypnotic state his hands made you reach, a state you wouldn’t let go until Arthur realized you were watching him, bringing you back to reality; just as it happened this night.

You were on the bed and the TV on lit up the room of a ghostly blue light that shone in the bedroom walls and illuminated you two, its volume was so low it seemed a silent companion of your mind that at this time was totally directed towards Arthur and, above all, his hands.

Arthur was laying with his back resting on the mountain of pillows behind both of you, his hands resting on his lap. Although he was focused on watching TV, he noticed with the corner of his eye that your gaze was fixed on watching something he had not been able to decipher and he would’ve sworn you had not even realized it. “Y/N?“. A jolt ran through your whole body and your mind awoke from this hypnotic state.

You lifted your head placed on his shoulder to look him in the eyes in a rash move, as if he had just woken you up from a dream in a brusque way. "Arthur?” you repeated imitating him and letting a guilty smile mark your lips. “What… what are you doing? Are you okay?” His circumspect eyes stared at you as he placed his right hand on your face to caress your cheek in a worried gesture; you closed your eyes, purring as soon as his hand touched your skin. “I’m okay, love. Just watching your hands.” You rubbed your cheek in his palm nuzzling into his touch even more. Arthur giggled in a shy expression and stroked your cheek with his thumb.

“My hands? What’s with my hands?” Before he could move his hand away from your face you placed yours over his and moving lightly your lips toward his skin you printed a gentle kiss on the heels of his hand, lingering your lips on his soft skin to breathe in his unmistakable smell.

There was something in his hands you just couldn’t explain. When you looked at them it seemed to you that time had passed faster on his hands than the rest of his body, because they were marked by dark spots and pads that a young man like him rarely have on his own skin.

That’s probably why you liked them so much: in his hands you could read the story of his whole life.

His body had absorbed all the wounds and bruises Arthur had seen grow outside of him and then they were rooted inside of him, into his soul. Every time he got jumped, every wound in his body which had already healed but whose weight had never gone away, every wound in his soul that remained open because too fragile and deep to heal, all the pain and suffering he had endured and all he had lived until this moment, his body had gathered it all and had made it converge right there, in his hands.

You really believed that every time the wounds on his body healed their heavy presence immediately moved on his hands, perhaps that’s why they looked much older than the rest of his body. His hands were the carnal reminder of all the pain Arthur had experienced when he was young and had forgotten, and of all the pain he was aware of but tried to hide.

Arthur had been told since he was a little boy to hide his pain by putting on a happy face, so he’d held it back his whole life and the only way his body had found to get him to vent was to use his pain as a brush to paint his hands and to give them that worn-out and eaten look.

Yet you never wanted to see hands other than his on his body; of him you loved all that he was and all that he had been, it was inevitable that you would love the part of his body which had absorbed the weight his soul bore every day, on which his life had converged and on which you could read the remains his pain had left him.

When you looked at them, you could only see a part of him who deserved attention and care as much as his lips did when you kissed them. Probably they were one of the parts more worthy of love because his hands held back the memory of all the wounds the rest of his fleshy body could heal, no longer carrying the sign. Yet even if they healed and externally were not visible their memory remained right there, on the surface of his worn hands.

“They’re so beautiful, Arthur. They’re… they’re just like you.” Arthur looked at you frowning in a confused expression. “Like me?” He repeated, his confusion had shifted to the tone of his voice. You smiled shyly and understanding, you were just as confused as he was because you couldn’t find the right words to make him understand how precious his hands were. “They deserve to be loved, Arthur.” Just like you, you said silently in your mind and saw Arthur smiling in return, as he also thought of these same words, and silently understood what you meant. A mutual conversation was created through your minds thinking in unison and understanding each other by speaking in unspoken words. You took his hands and held them between yours, staring at them as if you wanted to touch them through your eyes. Each of your thumbs was devoted to caress gently the back of each hand of his.

Not only did his pain emerge from his hands, but everything that was part of him too. The love he felt for you, his fragility, his vulnerability so vivid that sometimes you were even afraid to break them even by touching them with your fingertips. Every time he touched you with those hands all the delicacy and grace Arthur carried inside emerged out of them and seemed to dress his hands with a different fabric than the one that dressed his entire body.

You remained silent for a few minutes watching them, Arthur understood that in your words there were hidden thoughts you still had to say out loud and looked at you curious, awaiting, while you were studying his hands with moved eyes. Your body was trembling as if you weren’t prepared enough to look at Arthur’s beauty before your eyes.

“I want to… love them.” You said shortly after continuing to stare at them almost embarrassed to utter this desire aloud, Arthur giggled blushing in return. “You’re already loving me, Y/N.”

“No, Arthur.” You moved your head from both sides with a sharp move and raised your eyes to look him in the eye.

You approached him further enough for your noses touch each others lightly. “Listen,” you reluctantly let go off the grip of his hands but shortly after you wrapped his face so faster you didn’t give time to the void left by the absence of his touch you felt on your hands to spread all over your skin, because it had already been nourished by the touch of his cheeks when you wrapped his face with yours. You looked him straight in the eyes intensely, yours piercing and determined. Arthur was surprised to see how heavy was the load your face was carrying as you watched him. “I really want to love on them. I… I want to love on you piece by piece, like the way you deserve to be loved.”

You were so overwhelmed by the love you felt for him that sometimes you couldn’t speak without a trembling voice. Arthur had a surprised, confused expression, but not because he thought it was absurd what you were saying, but because even though you were together for a long time by far he was still surprised to see the love you felt for him, and how you were able to find new ways to love him and to make him feel loved each day more deeply than the previous one. He would never cease to be overwhelmed by the love you showed him and would never cease to be surprised to be loved by you so much as well; sometimes he was even bewildered that someone could love him with such fervour and strength of soul.

You brought slowly, very slowly, your lips close to him looking into his eyes. The closer you got, the more the desire to feel your lips on his grew within Arthur and reached his gaze turned to yours with anticipation. The expectation of that kiss increased his impatience and was watered when you passionally intertwined his lips with yours in an open-mouth kiss, closing both of your eyes in unison. Shortly after you broke the kiss but you were still so close that your lips still touched one another as you kept speaking, your hands still wrapping his face.

“Let me love you, Arthur. Please?” He smiled softly letting your hands feel his dimples deepen under your touch and you smiled in return, knowing that in his smile he hid a yes not said openly. You took the previous position and with your shaking hands you held his right hand as the open palm facing you.

You traced the lines of the palm with your fingertips as if you were walking the streets created by his skin and traveling them with your every sense. Through your fingertips you felt the grooves and ruts his skin formed, folds of skin you wanted to sink in to lose yourself inside him.

When you examined with your fingers every line of his palm you slowly brought it to your face and laid a series of kisses along its outline. His skin was soft and smelled of him, your lips were lost between these folds, his cupped hand welcomed your face in a warm wrapper while you kissed his palm with parted lips.

With your lips you followed the sinuous curve at the base of his thumb peppering his skin, gradually reaching the heels of his hand on which you planted slowly small sweet kisses. Shortly after, you laid a kiss right in its center, on the most sensitive part. “You’re tickling me,” he said giggling and you looked up at him worried, noticing he had his eyes still closed and a smile that had highlighted his dimples. “Sorry, love. Should I stop?”

Arthur moved his head from both sides gently. “Oh no, sweetheart. I didn’t mean it. I’m actually enjoying it.” You smiled at him, knowing, relaxing the worried look on your face and continued to pay attention to the palm of his hand making sure that no spot of his palm remained unkissed; but this time, between one kiss and another, you were leaving wet trails on his skin, trying to trace the folds his hand created with the tip of your tongue. His hands had a taste similar to the one of his lips but more decided and a bitter aftertaste, but which you loved to death.

Your tongue was drawing a mosaic of humidity and freshness on his skin that sparked a heat to Arthur’s core, which with every kiss you laid on his skin expanded more and more while with his eyes still closed and his short breath he followed the movements of your lips loving him.

You felt the same little tremors coming from his skin and shaking his hand through your lips like small lightning bolts running through his veins, while you filled the inner part of his fingers with the same kind of open-mouthed kisses, kissing each phalanx and each hill formed by his fingers, inserting your tongue in the space between his fingers before turning his hand to take care of the back.

The palm of his hand rested on yours and through this contact you felt the wet trails that your tongue had left on his skin. You smiled to yourself at the thought that your wet footprints were leaving a mark on his worn out hands and you hoped that, perhaps, your loving touch might one day replace all the pain those hands had touched and experienced and that they carried on themselves.

You didn’t want to change him or erase his story because every single thing he went through made him the man you loved, and there was nothing about him you didn’t love with all of yourself. What you wanted was to weaken his wounds by sprinkling your love on them, as if it were a cream smeared on an open wound. You wanted to kiss him with such fierce and heavy ardour that you would take away all the suffering that was in his worn hands.

When you lifted up your face to look at him and no longer feeling the touch of your lips he opened his eyes, crossing yours. His gaze carried a fire that lit you from within, his short breath was in full contrast with his relaxed expression and his face muscles were relaxed. You smirked proudly knowing what even the simpler touch of your lips could do to him, before you put your lips back on his skin and began to kiss the back of his hand as you had done just before with the palm, still feeling Arthur’s eyes fixed on your movements.

The skin of his hands looked like a sheet of paper in which his past and his present had been written, everything that was and would be was there, written through the swollen veins that covered the back of his hands as if they were words that on this sheet of paper were writing his story and flowed between his long and bony fingers as if they were rivers running along well defined paths.

You wish you could have flowed into his hands just as his veins did, you wish you were even his veins to flow into him and love him from within. You would have found a new way to love, more all-encompassing and deep than any human being had ever loved another person before.

You read the words in his veins by exploring them with your lips and by tracing a wet trail along their length as if you really wanted to be able to read all the stories his hands carried with them. Through the wet trail and the kisses you were drawing along his back you finally reached his knuckles. You raised your eyes crossing Arthur’s gaze and keeping it locked on his you led your parted lips on the knuckle at the base of his middle finger, kissing it slowly.

You teased him with a starving look before starting to suck his knuckle by moving the tip of your tongue around it to soak it completely while your lips were pushing his skin toward your mouth. You stopped looking at each other’s eyes when Arthur closed his own and opened his mouth to release a sweet moan of pleasure.

“Y/N…” You grinned with his knuckle still between your lips and proudly repeated the same dance of lips and tongue with the others knuckles, kissing and sucking each one of them while the sweet whining coming out of Arthur’s lips alternated with the rhythmic movement of his chest rising and falling quickly to catch the air your caresses were taking away from him.

“Y/N, just kiss me.” It was what he breathed out in a sweet prayer when by now you had begun to kiss also the knuckles of the other hand, repeating the same movements and kissing the back as you had done so far with the other one. You smiled tenderly at the pleading groan he had let slip. You couldn’t have done otherwise than to grant him every touch he needed and removed your lips from his hand, more than happy to satisfy his request.

Before you could make any other move he rushed toward you and surrounded your face with his hands to approach it to his and in a second his hungry lips were on yours. His tongue pressed impatiently on your lips to allow him to enter your mouth and explore it with such lust it expressed the wonderful torment that you made him feel only with just your mouth until then.

Soon this kiss turned by itself into a tangle of bodies, tongues and caresses you both couldn’t resist.

The first time he touched you, you were surprised how such worn hands like his, which held so much pain inside, could have such a delicate and gentle touch, but after all the time you spent knowing him and loving him every day more than the previous one, by now you knew he had absorbed from this pain the ability to love and the will not to hurt anyone.

Good people manage to absorb from their own pain only what can help them to do good, and Arthur was one of those. This pain had helped Arthur to understand how important it was not to allow anyone to live the same wounds he had; not surprisingly his desire in his life was to make people smile.

When he had met you more than ever this desire had become stronger within him, to the point that he was afraid to spread his pain even through his touch and knowing well how destructive it was in the early months he was even afraid to touch you.

But not anymore. Now he was learning to let himself be loved without feeling indebted and without being afraid that all of that could end if only he had done something wrong.

His touch was still as delicate and gentle as the first time and that would never change. It was the touch he granted the world not to break it and the touch he bestowed on what he loved, and he loved you more than anything else.

That night like so many other you and Arthur got dragged into a tornado of overwhelming desire at such a rate that before you knew it you were already on top of him, sitting on his lap with your legs stroking the sides of his, touching his body - which sadly was still clothed.

Without breaking the kiss which until then was never finished you found the hem of his shirt. Juggling as much as his hands by wrapping your face allowed you to move, you raised it up to the height of his neck and left his chest uncovered. Arthur chuckled and broke the kiss only to lift his back gracefully and took off his shirt, remaining shirtless beneath you.

You laid the palms of your hands on his chest and looked at him enchanted as if you were rediscovering his body for the first time. His tummy, which at other times would have created a sweet and soft curve where you loved to rest your face on, letting his chest by rising and falling make your head dance, and where more than anything you loved peppering kisses letting your lips sink on his dilated and elastic skin, was now completely stretched out, and in that supine position his ribs were as protruding as never before.

His skin was soft under your touch and some areas were marked by past purple and orange bruises still well visible, drawing his tummy and chest with messy brushstrokes. You’ve never seen a painting more painful, tragic, but still beautiful than him. He was so tragically beautiful he broke your heart, but for some reason he also held it in his hands and gently cradled it at the same time.

You felt your heart beat faster and your hands started shaking again as it had happened just before, silent tears came firmly out of your eyes as if they weren’t even yours but belonged to something greater, to the love that bound you and that was speaking to you; belonged to the pain your heart felt seeing Arthur’s pain not being something only metaphorical and intangible, but something you could look at through the painful painting that those bruises created on his skin and that you could touch with your own hands resting on those marks that weighed on his soul much more than you could ever believe.

Arthur leaned toward you lightly and placed his hand over your cheek to wipe out with his thumb the warm tears sliding on your skin and dripping on his naked tummy.

The sight of the drops of your tears on his tummy only increased them on your cheeks, now flowing more numerous. Your pain was on his, your tears were looking for his bruises, as if together your pains could become stronger and erase each other by taking away any crumbs of their passage.

The more you looked at his body, the more you cried and the more your head whirled, disoriented by his unsustainable beauty but which you couldn’t live without, every day more and more. His body was such a beautiful work of art that you felt stuck by Stendhal syndrome. Your earthly body couldn’t metabolize the angelic and otherworldy beauty in front of you.

“Why are you crying, sweetie pie?” Arthur asked without ceasing to wipe out your tears, he looked even relieved that his body was welcoming your tears and protecting them over him.

“I’m sorry, love. It’s just… I love you so much, and you’re so, so, so beautiful, Arthur.” You traced his protruding ribs with your fingers as you answered him with your tearful voice, your eyes fixed on his bruises. His chest was a starry white night with colored celestial bodies, the more you looked at them and the more the weight of the pain which lurked behind these colored circles pressed upon his frail body.

To look at him was as painful as it was to stop doing it, to stop looking at it actually hurt you even more, and you would never give up that pain no matter how much it made you cry. They were tears of love needed to water the connection that bound you and grew every day stronger like a robust tree. Arthur shuddered under your fingers caressing him on the protruding bones and under your gaze fixed on the visual pain that adorned his tummy.

His tummy was one of the most vulnerable parts of his body and the most trampled; he had been so accustomed in the past to receiving only bruises and aggressions that sometimes he struggled to enjoy your caresses in this part of his body without the memory of every attack coming back in his mind, in a way so heavy and reckless that sometimes he felt like he was reliving those assaults for real, again.

Life had accustomed him to his pain and before he met you his body had learned to accept any aggression and somatize them without even trying to defend itself. But after he knew you all the pain and dismay he should have felt during those attacks ironically exploded inside him even stronger. Now that he knew what love was like thanks to you and how much he had been deprived of it, it was difficult for him not to be suffocated by his past because now he had something to compare it with: the unconditional love you gave each other every day. He shuddered slightly, but enough to you hear him, too.

“I’m… I’m not, Y/N. Please, I don’t want you to cry because of me.” He said it as if it were an insult because he wouldn’t have wanted for anything in the world seeing you cried for him, as if he didn’t deserve that to cry for him was the woman he loved and from which he couldn’t let himself be touched without being sucked by the memories of his past.

You snuffled and intercrossed his resigned look, clouded by a veil of sadness. “Yes, you are, Art-” Arthur interrupted you, his jaw clenched in a restrained pain and his face turned towards the bedroom door, his gaze looked elsewhere to escape the sight of his own naked body. Not looking at it maybe it would be like not having it at all, he thought. “Look at me, Y/N. My body is so skinny, so full of bruises and scars. I… I’m not beautiful at all.” You smiled understanding in tears and brought your fingers toward his chin to make him turn around and look you in the eye.

“Arthur, baby, you are beautiful, like every bruise on your tummy and every scar on your skin are. Your thinness could never make you any less beautiful than you are now. I wish you could see yourself as I see you.” Arthur smiled at you wistfully and you read his disbelief on his face. “Let me show you, okay?”

“How?” he replied shyly. “I want to love on you piece by piece, remember? I’m not finished yet. There are still so many things I want to love about you.” A playful but hurt smile opened on his lips. “Yeah? Like what?” A sweet grin made room on your face contrasting the tears on your cheeks as you sat more comfortably on him to be able to blow a raspberry on his tummy. “Like your tummy.“

His tummy needed love and attention as much as his hands had been loved just before, it was the part of his body which had been most targeted when he was beaten and that therefore needed to receive all the love that had been denied to it. Arthur’s mind knew how to recognize your sweet touch when you caressed him, but it was something that his body memory had not yet been able to do, and often Arthur shuddered under your touch without being able to control himself, making him ashamed of his own body which didn’t allow him to be touched as he desired by the woman of his life. His skin brought back to the surface all his wounds and you just wanted to be able to eradicate the memory of his past that his skin carried inside him and fill that void with your love.

He giggled and you smiled back. You wanted to see this giggle on his face again and again so you kept peppering raspberries on his tummy repeatedly until you saw his face relaxing, the painful expression he had before vanishing slowly and turning into childlike giggles. “Feel better?” You asked with pleasantly numb lips for all the raspberries you had blowed on his soft skin, Arthur gratefully nodded. “Don’t stop, please.” “Oh, Arthur. No way I’m going to stop.” You grinned and his eyes lit up with anticipation as you approached him. The more your lips tasted his skin, the more hungry you were.

You peppered open-mouthed kisses on his jawline back and forth, Arthur closed his eyes and arched his neck to expose his skin, prompting you to lay your lips on the column of his throat. You both knew the language of your bodies by now and you were aware of what he was asking you. You smiled to yourself, following his movement by biting and sucking every part of his neck without leaving any part uncovered and making sure that his desire was fully satisfied. Despite episodes like the one that had happened just before in which it became difficult for him to let himself be touched, between you there was a trust that each time gave the strength to Arthur to come back to you and a complicity thanks to which he was no longer afraid to ask you what he wanted and gave himself completely to yourself.

You sown open mouth kisses along his chest, upon his prominent and definite bones, and in every space between his bones; you wanted him to know there was nothing about him that you didn’t love, that you loved every protruding bone and every frailty of him, by walking with your lips the road that would have lead you to his tummy.

You blow a raspberry on his tummy one last time making him giggle again before devoting yourself entirely to his skin with more ardor. You have sown small kisses as gentle as caresses on the navel and on the trail formed by his pubic hair as if you were kissing his own pain, as if every delicate kiss were erasing each bruise and wound of his body and his own soul. Arthur’s skin was trembling under your fingers and you looked up at him, who was staring at you with a question reflected by his frown brows and by his dismayed expression, a question he didn’t wait to manifest out loud.

“How can you love such an empty, damaged and thin tummy? How can you want me like this?” You smiled compassionately, the authentic unbelief you felt in the tone of his voice and read in his eyes increased your desire to make him understand that he was loved for the man he was; before you answered you placed your lips in the center of his tummy closing your eyes, staying in that position for a few seconds and lingering your lips on him, your nose was rubbing his skin and his smell was entering you. You wanted your skin to fade into his, erase any trace of his bruises and take their place, inhabit his skin and fill it from within in the same way he had done until then his own pain. “Arthur,” you laid forward searching for his face and laid a soft kiss on his lips, “you could never be more beautiful than you already are. I hope one day you’ll see it, too.” He sigh softly. “Do you think it’s possible?” You stroked his cheek with your thumb, “I am sure of it, sweetheart.” You get from him a smile that needed no words, he was already thanking you in silence.

You took the previous position and sowed love on his tummy without ever moving away your lips from his skin and dragging the tip of your nose on it to inebriate you with the sweet smell of his skin and breathe him in. You kissed with open mouth every bruise, every wound, every scar painted by his skin, hoping that the pain his tummy held with it would have been replaced by your love.

Under your lips you felt his tummy moving energetically, rising and falling at an ever faster pace as you increased the passion of your kisses. Your tongue traced the V shaped lines drawing wet trails along its curves, wet kisses alternated with sucking of skin flaps that once freed from the grip of your lips were colored with a bright magenta red and pushed groans out of his mouth. Arthur arched his back in a groan of pleasure stronger than the others, holding the blanket of the bed in such a strong fist that the knuckles of his hands were dyed red, as soon as you bit his pubic skin, and this movement highlighted his protruding bones and lifted his tummy.

Every component of his body was visible before your eyes and in this very moment you fell in love with him once again. Although in this position his tummy was completely relaxed and didn’t create the cozy curve you liked so much, his skin was still soft and your lips sank on his tummy every time you laid a kiss on his fragile skin. You wanted to sink into his tummy completely as your lips sunk into the area they were kissing when you laid them on him.

You tasted his tummy with a hunger that wasn’t subsiding but increased more and more by kissing and licking him around the navel, on the sides of the tummy, again on the V shaped lines and on the trail that ran along his torso, brushing it with your mouth and with your teeth its warm curves.

Your hands played with his pubic hair by twirling them between your fingers before you put a kiss right on his pelvis and lifted your back to sit on his legs as soon as the sound of his groans made you realize he had been well loved.

You looked satisfied at the picture you created. His skin was dressed in wet saliva strips that were drying out, hickey and red love bit. It was a painting similar to the one you saw just before on his skin created by bruises and wound and although the signs of his pain were still visible, now to avert the look there were the signs you yourself had painted on his skin, replacing the picture of wounds with another picture whose origin was not pain, but love. You giggled at the sight of his tummy now no longer red for the bruises but red for the signs of your kisses whose passage you still felt on your numb lips which were pricking. “What’s so funny?” he asked with the voice broken by the short breath. “Nothin’. I put my love on you and it suits you.” Arthur lifted his head slightly curious to look at his tummy and chuckled, blushing at the sight of the marks your mouth had left on his skin. “I love your masterpiece.”

“Yeah…” you said by taking his right hand casually and approaching it to you, “me too.” Arthur noticed in your eyes a ravenous spark that lit up as you carried his hand to your lips, a smirk on your face and your eyes fixed on his as your pupils dilated with a desire hidden in your mind. “Haven’t my hands been loved properly yet, darling?”

“I got a better idea.” You teased him with a smirk on your face. “You know what other piece hasn’t been loved yet?” Arthur’s gaze was confused and without waiting for his answer you brought the index and middle finger of his right hand to your mouth, licking the fingertips slightly.

Arthur’s eyes were burning. Slowly you put his fingers entirely in your mouth, licking every rough crease created by his skin and sucking the graceful curves outlined by the bony fingers. His fingers were grabbed tightly by your lips, your tongue surrounded them, caressing them softly, and beneath your body you felt Arthur’s hardness make room between your folds. Arthur swallowed and his gaze vibrated in the realization, a thought was now being born in his mind; he understood what you were implying and suggesting. He arched his pelvis pressing his hardness against you, eager to feel those same emotions no longer on his fingers but on his length. A whine came out of your lips while you were still sucking and tongue-covering his long callous fingers back and forth, imitating the movements you would make shortly thereafter. His fingers perfectly matched the shape of your cheeks and welcomed them entirely.

“Y/N, please.” You grinned with his fingers still in your mouth, sucking them one last time slowly, very slowly, the desire was growing within Arthur as much as its hardness beneath you. You pulled his fingers out of your mouth by lingering on his fingertips and sucking them one last time, just before kissing his palm and giving him back his hand. Your eyes were wild and bold.

Holding your gaze fixed on Arthur’s you came back to bite his tummy, your teeth gently grabbed small flaps of his skin and shortly after freed them from their grasp. You were leaving once again red marks along the way with your teeth, your tongue wanted to rewrite the same wet stripes on his skin with your saliva that you had traced just before and now had vanished.

Your hands were exploring his legs calmly, having no hurry to reach your goal and loving the sweet torment that Arthur could no longer bear, when your lips began to linger on his pubic skin and your tongue traveled through the little hairs that came out of his pants.

By now you were exploring the tight muscles of his thighs as if you were touching them for the first time and wanted to imprint their shapes in your hands, making your way to the zipper of the pants. Your lips were still dedicated to his tummy, which now looked like a garden full of newly blooming red poppies.

Arthur let out a happy moan with anticipation when finally your hands reached the hem of his pants and you put your fingers on the zipper. You unbuttoned them and started to lower them slowly, letting his underwear reveal itself and his cock unfold in front of you without rushing. You wanted to undress him slowly, like you were unwrapping a present and not want to spoil the package.

Arthur’s length was almost completely visible, and as you continued to lower his pants, you kissed his hardness from above the underwear, let Arthur’s body nervously shaking as if a lightning had just crossed it.

“Oh, screw it.” In a rushed gesture he lifted his pelvis to take his pants off as quickly as possible, helping himself even with his own hands, unable to wait any longer. You laughed at how eager and hasty his desire had become, and by exchanging a complicit look you pulled his pants towards an indefinite point of the room. Arthur bit his lips and arched his pelvis towards your face with anticipation.

“So eager, Artie.” You said in a flirtatious voice leading your lips once again to his underwear to pepper his still dressed length with small slow kisses. “Y/N, please.” The impatient desire matched perfectly with his stiffened features, his eyes looked at you pleading, waiting for your touch on him. All you could do was enjoy how magical your touch was for him and knowing that even the smallest part of you was enough to turn his head in such a way you smiled. By licking your own lips finally you fulfilled his wish, lowering his underwear and feeling a heat blazing from your body at the sight of his nakedness ready only for you.

You took his starved length between your right hand and Arthur let out a satisfied moan, letting your lips erase the impatience he felt up to the soul. You kissed the tip of his cock distilled with precum and feeling him shaken under your hand you laid the other hand on his pelvis to hold him still, keeping to caress his skin. You were as hungry as he was, and with an impatience that you yourself could no longer sustain, you took it all in your mouth. You felt his toughness increase between your cheeks and under your lips, moving at a rhythmic pace which surrounded him in a warm and wet grip.

You raised your eyes to him, he was biting his lips and his eyes were closed in an expression of pleasure, little baby hair were glued to his sweaty forehead and his hands shook the blanket in a firm grip. The sight of pleasure on his face and the effects of your lips on his body pleased and aroused you at the same time, locking you in a spiral that only Arthur could satisfy.

Your tongue caressed every part of his skin that you felt pulsating inside your mouth more and more as you stroked his cock up and down and your teeth scratched his length gently making him shiver in a pleasant pain as if they were small pinching.

You took it all the way down by touching his pubic little curls with your lips and Arthur arched his back letting out a groan that he didn’t try to dampen in the slightest. By now he felt comfortable with you and was no longer ashamed to let you hear the melodies of pleasure your touch provoked. In a rushed gesture he grabbed your hair with his right hand with the same energy with which just before he was grabbing the blanket, moving his arm by following the rhythm your head was following that by now had increased. You brought your hand on his tummy where you could still feel the wet tracks your tongue had left before and shortly afterwards in his inner thigh, studying every muscle flexed for pleasure. His trembling legs and his pelvis raised to your face more frequently made you realize he was coming and you were ready with all of yourself to welcome his fluid inside you.

Arthur exploded inside your mouth arching his back and his stretched out tummy into a broken moan which was telling out loud your name hidden in his trembling lips. You smiled to yourself satisfied at the thought that you were the woman he allowed to be touched with such a intense intimacy, and made sure that not a single drop of his cum escaped from your still tight mouth around his cock, which you didn’t want to let go yet.

His body relaxed beneath you and you pulled him out of your grip by kissing his tip on which there were still remnants of his fluid, not a single drop of him would have been wasted. Arthur lowered his back and stretched out again, his face shattered and his hair wet with sweat. The hand that had grasped your hair tightly now were placed on your cheek to caress you gently. You purred and kissed the heels of his hand, then you reached his face and kissed him, making him taste his own flavor.

“I love you, Arthur.” You said by laying your forehead on his and breathing as much as you could the dense and erotic smell emanated from his body. “I know. You just showed it to me,” he chuckled while was still trying to catch the breath that your touch had stolen from him, leading your body to lie down on his, “piece by piece.” You let yourself be guided by his hands and hid your face in the corner of his neck, his arms surrounded you entirely while your body laying on his own, rubbing each other’s skin. “I really mean it, Artie. I love every piece of you, even, and especially, those you cannot love yet.” You lifted your head slightly to look him in the eye and stroked his cheek, the television still on seemed to have been forgotten by both of you that in this embrace were melting your pains one another. “I love you entirely.” In the only way you deserved to be loved, you kept saying in your mind without the need to pronounce it; he knew it.

He fell asleep shortly after holding you tight in this embrace, the tiredness and the peaceful exhaustion of your love still within him, and as you listened to his rising and falling chest under your body you were sure that on this night the parts of him that needed more care had been loved as they deserved and the pain they carried on him had been lightened for real.

You would have loved him piece by piece so many other times, until every wound and every bruises that carried his suffering would have been erased from his soul.


End file.
